Perennial apocalypto

A few sages raise architectures of certitudes,
while mountains of corpses bury
the last bits of human shame.

This is the only undeniable evidence,
and as hapless horror snaps the heart
I can only climb insuperable doubts.

No escape is worth eluding
the question which permeates reality:
what will be the next step?

Whatever may come after this
will be nothing but the illusion
that the worst has finally come.

Thus men just keep on hoping
that progress will beat sorrow
and science will cure the disease of imperfection.

But the rule has long been written:
Good cannot win Evil
but only fight it restlessly.

Now God is dead and lies are bred
that everlasting peace
will rise at the end of no battle.

Yet to be set for struggle
does not mean growing
the grinding roots of a limitless hate.

Men need to be deprived of air
to realise that taking for granted
is just self-inflicted suffocation.

So I stop, breathe unfathomably in
and give place to purifying silence
to sweep away questions and answers.

Try and hear those soundless cries
invoking not to forget, as to lay the foundation
of a new start after death.

Reviews

[pasdepoisson]

"Hapless horror snaps the heart" is just one of a number of heartbreaking lines in this work.

"God is dead and lies are bred" is another gem.

Among these great lines are a few I think could be polished, however, such as "No escape is worth eluding" and
"Men need to be deprived of air
to realise that taking for granted
is just self-inflicted suffocation."
-could be perfected a bit.

Love the "grinding the roots of limitless hatred" as a metaphor.

This is a very heavy topic, and you write it well. How long must man live out the same vicious cycle of war and rebuilding?